The Philosophy of Spiritual Activity

On-line since: 21st October, 2006

THE KNOWLEDGE OF FREEDOM(SPIRITUAL ACTIVITY)

vii

ARE THERE LIMITS TO KNOWLEDGE?

WE HAVE ESTABLISHED
that the elements for explaining reality are to be taken
from the two spheres: perceiving and thinking. As we have seen, it is our
organization that determines the fact that the full, complete reality of
things, our own subject included, appears at first as a duality. Cognition
overcomes this duality by combining the two elements of reality: the
perception and the concept gained by thinking, into the complete thing. If
we call the world as it confronts us before it has attained its true aspect
by means of cognition, “the world of appearance,” in contrast to the unified
whole composed of perception and concept, then we can say: The world is given
us as a duality (dualistic), and cognition transforms it into a unity
(monistic). A philosophy which starts from this basic principle may be called
a monistic philosophy, or monism, in contrast to the theory of two
worlds, or dualism. The latter does not assume that there are two sides
of a single reality, which are kept apart merely by our organization, but,
rather, that there are two worlds, completely different from each other.
Then in the one world it tries to find the principles that can explain the
other.

Dualism rests on a misunderstanding of what we call knowledge. It divides
the whole of existence into two spheres, each of which has its own laws, and
it lets these spheres stand opposite to and outside of each other.

It is from a dualism such as this that there arises the distinction between
the perceived object and the thing-in-itself which Kant
[ 41 ]
introduced into
science and which so far has not been expelled. From our discussion can be
seen that it is due to the nature of our intellectual organization that a
particular thing can be given us only as perception. Thinking then overcomes
this separateness by referring each perception to its rightful place in the
world whole. As long as the separated parts of the world whole are defined
as perceptions, in this elimination we are simply following a law of our
subjectivity. If, however, we consider the sum-total of all perceptions as
constituting one part, and confront it with the “thing-in-itself” as a
second part, then our philosophizing loses all foundation. It then becomes a
mere playing with concepts. An artificial opposition is constructed, but it
is not possible to attain a content for the second part of this opposition,
since such content for a particular thing can be drawn only from perception.

Every kind of existence which is assumed outside the realm of perception and
concept belongs to the sphere of unjustified hypotheses. The
“thing-in-itself” belongs in this category. It is quite natural that a
dualistic thinker should be unable to find the connection between a
universal principle which he hypothetically assumes, and the given, known by
experience. One can obtain a content for the hypothetical universal
principle only by borrowing a content from the sphere of experience and then
shutting one's eyes to the fact of the borrowing. Otherwise it remains an
empty concept, a non-concept, which is nothing but a shell of a concept. Then
the dualistic thinker usually maintains that the content of this concept is
not accessible to our knowledge. We can know only that such a content
must be present, but not what it is. In both cases it is impossible
to overcome dualism. Even if one brings a few abstract elements from the
sphere of experience into the concept of the thing-in-itself, it still
remains impossible to derive the rich concrete life of experience from those
few qualities which, after all, are themselves taken from perception only.
DuBois-Reymond
[ 42 ]
thinks that the imperceptible atoms of matter produce
sensation and feeling by means of their position and motion, and then comes
to the conclusion: We can never find a satisfactory explanation of how
matter and motion produce sensation and feeling, for

“It is absolutely and forever unintelligible that it should be other than
indifferent to a number of atoms of carbon, hydrogen, and nitrogen, etc.,
how they lie and move, how they lay and moved, or how they will lie and will
move. It is impossible to see how consciousness could come into existence
through their interaction.”

This conclusion is characteristic of this whole trend of thought. Position
and motion are abstractions derived from the rich sphere of perceptions.
They are then transferred to the imagined world of atoms. Then astonishment
arises that real life cannot be evolved out of this principle which is
self-made and borrowed from the sphere of perceptions.

That the dualist who works with a completely empty concept of the
“in-itself” of things can reach no explanation of the world, already follows
from the definition of his principle indicated above.

A dualist is always compelled to set impassable barriers to our faculty of
knowledge. The follower of a monistic world view knows that everything he
needs for the explanation of any given phenomenon in the world must lie
within this world itself. What hinders him from reaching the explanation can
be only contingent limitations in space and time, or shortcomings of his
organization. And, indeed, not of the human organization in general, but
only of his own particular one.

It follows from the concept of cognition, as defined by us, that one cannot
speak of limits to knowledge. Cognition is not a concern of the universe in
general, but one which men must settle for themselves. Things claim no
explanation. They exist and act on one another according to laws which
thinking can discover. They exist in indivisible unity with these laws. Our
egohood confronts them, grasping at first only what we have called
perceptions. In the inner core of our egohood, however, we find the power to
discover the other part of reality also. Only when the egohood has again
combined for itself the two elements of reality which are indivisibly united
in the world, is the thirst for knowledge satisfied: the I has again come to
reality.

Therefore, the conditions required for cognition to arise, come about
through and for the I. The I sets itself the problems of
cognition. And it takes them from the element of thinking, in itself
absolutely clear and transparent. If we ask questions we cannot answer,
then the content of the question cannot be clear and distinct in all its
details. The world does not set us the questions; it is we ourselves who
set them.

I can imagine that it would be quite impossible for me to answer a question
which I happened to find written down somewhere, without knowing the sphere
from which the content of the question was taken.

In knowledge we are concerned with questions which arise for us through the
fact that a sphere of perceptions, conditioned by time, space, and our
subjective organization, is confronted by a sphere of concepts pointing to a
world which is a unity. My task is to reconcile these two spheres, well
known to me. One cannot speak here of a limit of knowledge. It may be that
at a particular moment, this or that remains unexplained because, through
our place in life, we are prevented from perceiving all that is involved.
What is not found to-day, however, may be found tomorrow. The limits due to
these causes are only transitory, and can be overcome by the progress of
perceiving and thinking.

Dualism makes the mistake of transferring the antithesis of object and
subject, which has significance only within the sphere of perceptions, to
purely invented entities outside this sphere. But as the separate things
within the field of perception remain separated only as long as the
perceiver refrains from thinking, which cancels all separation and shows it
to be due to merely subjective factors, so the dualist, in fact, transfers
to entities behind the sphere of perceptions definitions which, even for
perceptions, have no absolute but only relative validity. In doing this he
splits up the two factors concerned in the process of cognition, perception
and concept, into four: 1) the object-in-itself, 2) the perception which the
subject has of the object, 3) the subject, 4) the concept which relates the
perception to the object-in-itself. The relation between object and subject
is considered to be real, that is, the subject is considered to be
really (dynamically) influenced by the object. This real process is said not
to appear in consciousness. But it is supposed to evoke in the subject a
response to the stimulation from the object. The result of this response is
said to be the perception. This at last enters our consciousness. The object
is said to have an objective reality (independent of the subject), the
perception a subjective reality. This subjective reality is said to be
referred by the subject to the object. This latter reference is said to be
an ideal one. The dualist, in other words, splits up the process of cognition
into two parts. One part, i.e., the production of the perceptual object out of
the thing-in-itself, takes place, according to him, outside of
consciousness, the other part, the union of perception with concept
and the reference of this to the object, within consciousness. These
presuppositions make it clear that the dualist believes he receives in his
concepts only something subjective, which represents what confronts his
consciousness. The objectively real process in the subject, by means of which
the perception comes about, and still more the objective relationships between
things-in-themselves, remain inaccessible to direct cognition for such a
dualist. In his opinion, man can obtain only concepts that represent the
objectively real. The bond of unity which connects things with one another
and also objectively with our individual spirit (as thing-in-itself), lies
beyond consciousness in a being-in-itself of whom we likewise can have in
our consciousness only a concept that represents it.

The dualist believes that the whole world would be nothing but a mere
abstract scheme of concepts if he did not insist on “real” connections
between the objects beside the conceptual ones. In other words, the ideal
principles which can be discovered by thinking seem too airy for the
dualist, and he seeks, in addition, “real principles” with which to support
them.

Let us examine these “real principles” a little more closely. The naive man
(naive realist) regards the objects of external experience as realities. The
fact that his hands can grasp and his eyes can see these objects is for him
the proof of their reality. “Nothing exists that cannot be perceived” is, in
fact, the basic axiom of the naive man, and it is held to be equally valid
in its converse: “Everything which can be perceived, exists.” The best proof
for this assertion is the naive man's belief in immortality and in ghosts.
He thinks of the soul as a fine kind of physical matter which, in special
circumstances, may actually become visible to the ordinary man (naive belief
in ghosts).

In contrast to this real world of his, the naive realist regards everything
else, especially the world of ideas, as unreal, as “merely ideal.” What we
add to objects by thinking is mere thoughts about the objects. Thought adds
nothing real to perception.

But it is not only with reference to the existence of things that the naive
man regards sense perception as the sole proof of reality, but also with
reference to happenings. According to him, one thing can act upon another
only when a force actually present to sense perception issues from the one
and seizes upon the other. The older physicists thought that very fine
substances emanate from the objects and penetrate through the sense-organs
into the soul. They thought the actual seeing of these substances to be
impossible only because of the coarseness of our sense-organs in comparison
with the fineness of these substances. In principle, the reason for
attributing reality to these substances was the same as that for attributing
it to the objects of the physical world, namely, the form of their
existence, which was thought to be analogous to that of physical reality.

The self-dependent nature of what can be experienced, not physically but
ideally, is not regarded by naive consciousness as being real in the same
sense. Something grasped “merely as idea” is regarded as a chimera until
sense perception can provide conviction of its reality. In short, in
addition to the ideal evidence of his thinking, the naive man demands the
real evidence of his senses. This need of naive man is the reason why
primitive forms of belief in revelation arise. For naive consciousness, the
God who is given through thinking always remains a God merely “thought.”
Naive consciousness demands that the manifestation should be through means
accessible to physical perception. God must appear in bodily form; little
value is attached to the evidence of thinking, but only to the Divine Nature
being proved by the changing of water into wine in a way which can be
testified by the senses.

The act of cognition, too, is regarded by naive man as a process analogous
to sense-perception. Things must make an impression on the soul or send
out images which penetrate the senses, etc.

What the naive man can perceive with his senses he regards as real, and that
of which he has no such perception (God, soul, cognition, etc.) he regards
as analogous to what is perceived.

A science based on naive realism will consist in an exact description
of the content of perception. Concepts are only means to this end. They exist
to provide ideal counterparts of perceptions. For things themselves, they have
no significance. For the naive realist, only the individual tulips which are
seen or could be seen, are real. The one idea of the tulip, is to him an
abstraction, is to him an unreal thought-picture, which the soul has put
together for itself out of the characteristics common to all tulips.

Naive realism, with its fundamental principle of the reality of all perceived
things, is contradicted by experience, which shows us that the content of
perceptions is of a transitory nature. The tulip I see, is real to-day; in a
year it will have vanished into nothingness. What persists is the
species tulip. This species, however, for the naive realist is
“merely” an idea, not a reality. Thus, this world view finds
itself in the position of seeing its realities arise and perish, while what it
regards as unreal, in contrast to the real, persists. Hence the naive realist
has to allow for the existence of something ideal besides the perceptions. He
has to accept entities which he cannot perceive by means of the senses. He
justifies this by imagining their existence to be analogous to that of physical
objects. Such hypothetically assumed realities are the invisible forces by
means of which objects perceptible to the senses act on one another. Heredity
is thought of in this way; it goes beyond the individual and is the reason why
a new being develops from the individual which is similar to it, and by
means of it the species is maintained. The life principle permeating the
organic body is also thought of in this way, and so is the soul, for which
one always finds in naive consciousness a concept based on an analogy to
sense-reality, and finally so, too, the naive man thinks of the Divine Being.
This Divine Being is thought of as active in a manner exactly corresponding
to what can be perceived as actions of men, that is, the Divine Being
is thought of anthropomorphically.

Modern physics traces sense-impressions back to processes in the smallest
particles of bodies and to the infinitely fine substance, the ether, or to
something similar. For example, what we sense as warmth, is, within the
space occupied by the warmth-giving body, movement of its parts. Here again,
something imperceptible is thought of on the analogy of what is perceptible.
The physical analogon to the concept “body” is, in this sense, something
like the interior of a totally enclosed space in which elastic balls are
moving in all directions, impinging on one another, bouncing on and off the
walls, etc.

Without such assumptions, for naive realism, the world would collapse into a
disconnected chaos of perceptions with no mutual relationships to unite
them. It is clear, however, that naive realism can arrive at these
assumptions only by inconsistency. If it remained true to its fundamental
principle that only what is perceived is real, then it would not assume a
reality where it perceives nothing. The imperceptible forces which proceed
from perceptible things are essentially unjustified hypotheses from the
standpoint of naive realism itself. And as the naive realist acknowledges no
other realities, he invests his hypothetical forces with perceptual content.
In doing this he applies a form of existence (perceptual existence) to a
sphere where he lacks the only means that can give any evidence of such
existence: perceiving by means of physical senses.

This self-contradictory world view leads to metaphysical realism. Beside
the perceptible reality, the metaphysical realist constructs an
imperceptible one which he thinks of on the analogy of the former.
Metaphysical realism therefore, is of necessity dualistic.

Where the metaphysical realist observes a relation between perceptible
things (mutual approach through movement, becoming conscious of an object,
etc.), there he regards a reality as existing. But the relation that he
notices he can, however, express only by means of thinking; he cannot
perceive it. The relation, which is purely ideal, is arbitrarily made into
something similar to what is perceptible. Thus, according to this line of
thought, the real world is composed of perceptual objects which are in
ceaseless flux, arising and disappearing, and of imperceptible forces which
are permanent and produce the perceptual objects.

Metaphysical realism is a contradictory mixture of naive realism and
idealism. Its hypothetical forces are imperceptible entities endowed with
the qualities of perceptions. In addition to the sphere, for the form of
existence of which he has a means of cognition in its perceptibility, the
metaphysical realist has decided to acknowledge another sphere to which this
means is not applicable, a sphere which can be ascertained only by means of
thinking. But he cannot at the same time decide also to acknowledge the form
of existence which thinking mediates, namely the concept (the idea), as
being of equal importance with perceptions. If one is to avoid the
contradiction of imperceptible perceptions, then it must be admitted that
the relation thinking mediates between perceptions can have no other form of
existence for us than that of the concept. When the untenable part of
metaphysical realism is rejected, we then have the world before us as the
sum of perceptions and their conceptual (ideal) relations. Then metaphysical
realism merges into a world view which requires the principle of
perceptibility for perceptions and that of “think-ability” for the relations
between the perceptions. Side by side with the realm of perceptions and that
of concepts, this world view cannot acknowledge a third realm for which both
principles, the so-called real principle and the ideal principle, have equal
validity.

When the metaphysical realist maintains that beside the ideal relation
between the perceptual object and the perceiving subject, there must also
exist a real relation between the “thing-in-itself” of the perception and
the “thing-in-itself” of the perceptible subject (of the so called individual
spirit), then this assertion is due to the mistaken assumption of the
existence of a process, analogous to a process in the sense-world, but
imperceptible. Further, when the metaphysical realist says: I have a
conscious ideal relationship with my world of perceptions, but with the real
world I can have only a dynamic (force) relationship, he then makes the
above mistake to an even greater degree. One can only speak of a
force-relationship within the world of perceptions (in the sphere of the
sense of touch), not outside that sphere.

Let us call the world view characterized above, into which metaphysical
realism merges if it discards its contradictory elements, monism,
because it unites one-sided realism with idealism in a higher unity.

For the naive realist, the real world is an aggregate of objects of
perception; for the metaphysical realist also the imperceptible forces are
realities. Instead of forces, the monist has ideal connections which he attains
by means of his thinking. The laws of nature are such connections. For
a law of nature is nothing other than the conceptual expression for the
connection of certain perceptions.

The monist never has any need to ask for factors other than perceptions and
concepts, with which to explain reality. He knows that in the whole sphere of
reality there is no need to ask for this. In the sphere of perceptions,
directly accessible to his perceiving, he sees half of a reality; in the
union of this sphere with the sphere of concepts, he finds the full reality.
The metaphysical realist may make the objection to the adherent of monism:
It could be that for your organization your knowledge is complete in itself,
that no part is lacking; but what you do not know is how the world is
mirrored in an intelligence organized differently from your own. To this the
monist would reply: If there are intelligences other than human, if their
perceptions have a different form than ours, then all that would be of
significance for me would be what reaches me from them by means of
perceptions and concepts. By means of my perceiving and, in fact, by means
of this specifically human manner of perceiving, as subject I am placed over
against the object. The connection of things is thereby broken. The subject
restores this connection by means of thinking. In doing so, things are
re-inserted into the world whole. Since it is only through our subject that
this whole appears rent in two at the place between our perception and our
concept, so likewise the union of these two factors gives us a true
knowledge. For beings with a different world of perceptions (if, for
example, they had twice as many sense-organs), the connection would appear
broken in another place, and the restoration would, accordingly, have a form
specific for such beings. The question concerning limits of knowledge exists
only for the naive and metaphysical realists, both of whom see in the
content of the soul only an ideal representation of the world. For them,
what exists outside the subject is something absolute, something
self-dependent, and the content of the subject is a picture of this absolute
and is completely external to it. How complete is knowledge of this absolute
would depend on the greater or lesser degree of resemblance between the
picture and the absolute object. A being with fewer senses than man would
perceive less of the world, one with more senses would perceive more. The
former's knowledge would therefore be less complete than that of the latter.

For the monist, things are different. It is the organization of the
perceiving being that determines how the world unity appears to be torn
apart into subject and object. The object is not something absolute, but is
only something relative in relation to this particular subject. The bridging
of the contrasting entities can, therefore, take place again only in the
quite specific way that is characteristic of the human subject. As soon as
the I, which, in perceiving, is separated from the world, reinserts itself
into the connection of things through thinking investigation, all further
questioning ceases, since all questions arose only as a result of the
separation.

A differently constituted being would have a differently constituted
knowledge. Our knowledge suffices to answer the questions asked by our
nature.

The metaphysical realist should ask: How does what is given as perception
come to be the given; what is it that affects the subject?

For the monist, the perception is determined by the subject. But in
thinking, the subject has, at the same time, the means for canceling this
determination, caused through the subject itself.

The metaphysical realist is faced by a further difficulty when he seeks to
explain the similarity of the world picture, of different human individuals.
He cannot but ask himself: How is it that the world picture which I build up
out of my subjectively determined perceptions and out of my concepts, turns
out to be like that which another individual builds up out of the same two
subjective factors? How, from my subjective world picture, can I infer
anything about that of another human being? The metaphysical realist
believes he can infer, from the fact that people come to terms with one
another in practical life, that their subjective world pictures must be
similar. From the similarity of these world pictures he then further infers
that the “individual spirits” behind the single perceiving human subjects,
or the “I-in-itself” behind the subjects, must also be similar.

Therefore this inference is drawn from a sum of effects to the nature of
their underlying causes. It is believed that from a sufficiently large
number of instances, the situation can be so recognized that one can know
how the inferred causes will behave in other instances. Such an inference is
called an inductive inference. It will be necessary to modify the results
if, from further observation, some unexpected element is discovered, because
the result, after all, is determined only by the particular form of the
earlier observation. The metaphysical realist maintains that this stipulated
knowledge of causes is quite sufficient for practical life.

Inductive inference is the methodical foundation of modern metaphysical
realism. At one time it was believed that out of concepts could be evolved
something that is no longer a concept. It was believed that from concepts
could be derived the metaphysical realities which of necessity,
metaphysical realism must have. This kind of philosophizing is now
superseded. Instead, it is believed that from a sufficiently large number of
perceptual facts one can infer the character of the thing-in-itself which
underlies these facts. Just as in the past one tried to derive the
metaphysical from concepts, so to-day one tries to derive it from
perceptions. As concepts are transparent in their clarity, it was believed
that one could also deduce the metaphysical from them with absolute
certainty. Perceptions are not of such transparency. Each later perception
is always a little different from those of the same kind that preceded it.
Therefore, anything inferred from the earlier perception is, in reality,
somewhat modified by each following one. The aspect of the metaphysical
arrived at in this way, therefore, can be said to be only relatively
correct, for it is subject to correction by future instances. Eduard von
Hartmann's metaphysics is of a kind that is determined by this methodical
principle. This is expressed in the motto he gave on the title-page of his
first major work: “Speculative results according to the inductive method of
natural science.”

The form which the metaphysical realist gives to his things-in-themselves
today is obtained by inductive inferences. His consideration of the process
of knowledge has convinced him that a connection of things, which is
objectively real, exists side by side with the “subjective” connection that
can be known through perception and concept. The nature of this objective
reality he believes he can determine by inductive inferences from his
perceptions.

Addition to the Revised Edition, (1918):
Certain representations which arise from investigations of
natural phenomena tend, again and again, to disturb unprejudiced
observation — as the effort has been made to describe it above —
of how we experience concepts and perceptions. Such investigations show that
in the light-spectrum the eye perceives colors from red to violet. However,
within the spectrum's sphere of radiation, but beyond the violet there are
forces to which corresponds no color perception of the eye, but a chemical
effect and, similarly, beyond the limit of the red there exist radiations
which have only effects of warmth. Investigation of these and similar
phenomena has led to the opinion that the range of man's sphere of
perceptions is determined by the range of his senses, and that he would have
before him a very different world if he had more or altogether different
senses. Those who are inclined to flights of imagination, for which the
glittering discoveries of recent scientific research in particular offer
such tempting opportunities, may come to the conclusion: Nothing can enter
man's field of observation except what is able to affect the senses of his
bodily organization, and he has no right to regard what he perceives, by
means of his limited organization, as being in any way a standard for
ascertaining reality. Every new sense would give him a different picture of
reality. — Within its proper limits, this opinion is entirely correct.
But one who allows this opinion to prevent him from observing without prejudice
the relationship between concept and perception, as explained here, will put
obstacles in the way to any realistic knowledge of man and world. To
experience thinking in its own nature, that is, to experience the active
working-out of the sphere of concepts, is something entirely different from
the experience of something perceptible through the senses. Whatever senses
man might possibly have, not one would give him reality if through the
activity of thinking, he did not permeate with concepts the perceptions they
conveyed to him; and indeed, every sense, of whatever kind, if thus
permeated, gives man the possibility to live within reality. Speculations
about quite different perceptual pictures conveyed by other senses, has
nothing to do with the question concerning man's relation to reality. It is
essential to recognize that every perceptual picture derives its form
from the organization of the perceiving being, but the perceptual picture when
permeated by thinking which is livingly experienced leads man into reality.
A fanciful description of how different the world would appear to other than
human senses cannot act as an incentive to man to seek for knowledge
concerning his relationship to the world; rather will this happen through the
insight that every perception gives us only a part of the reality it
conceals, that, therefore, it leads away from its reality. This then
brings us to the further insight that it is thinking which leads into that
part of reality which the perception conceals within itself. An unprejudiced
observation of the relation between perceptions, and concepts worked out by
thinking, as here described, may also be disturbed by the fact that in the
sphere of applied physics it becomes necessary to speak not at all of
directly perceptible elements, but of non-perceptible magnitudes, such as lines
of electric or magnetic force, etc. It may appear as if the elements
of reality, spoken of in physics, had nothing to do either with what is
perceptible or with concepts actively worked out by thinking. But such a
view is based on self-deception. What matters is that all that is
worked out in physics — as long as it is not based on unjustifiable
hypotheses which must be excluded — is obtained by means of perceptions
and concepts. By a correctly working instinct for knowledge in the physicist,
what is apparently a non-perceptible content will always be placed into the
field of perceptions, and will be thought of in concepts belonging to this
field. The magnitudes in electric and magnetic fields, etc., are attained,
owing to their nature, by no other process of cognition than the one
which takes place between perception and concept. — An increase or a
transformation of the human senses would give a different perceptual picture;
it would be an enrichment or a transformation of human experience. But a real
knowledge of this experience also could be attained only through the interplay
of concept and perception. A deepening of knowledge depends upon the
active power of intuition contained in thinking (see p. 30). In the
living experience within thinking, this intuition can dive down into
lesser or greater depths of reality. Through extension of the perceptual
picture this diving down of intuition can receive stimulation and thus be
indirectly strengthened. But never should this diving into the depths
to attain reality be confused with being confronted with a wider or narrower
perceptual picture, in which there would always be contained only
a half-reality determined by the organization of the cognizing being.
If one avoids getting lost in abstractions, it will be recognized
how significant, also for knowledge of the being of man, is the fact that
in physics one has to include the existence, in the field of
perceptions, of elements for which no sense organ is directly tuned as
for color or sound. The essential being of man is determined not
only by what confronts him through his organization as direct perception,
but also by the fact that he excludes something else from this direct
perception. Just as life needs, in addition to the conscious waking state,
an unconscious sleeping state, so, for man's self-experience is needed besides
the sphere of his sense-perceptions, another sphere also — indeed, a much
larger one — of elements not perceptible to the senses, but existing
within the same field where sense-perceptions originate. All this was already
indirectly indicated in the first edition of this book. The author here adds
these amplifications to the content because he has found by experience that many
readers have not read accurately enough. — Another thing to be considered
is that the idea of perception, as presented in this book, is not to be
confused with the idea of external sense-perception, which is but a special
instance of perception. The reader will gather from what has already been said,
but even more from what will follow, that here perception includes everything
that man meets, physically or spiritually, before he has grasped it in
actively worked out concepts. We do not need what we usually mean by senses in
order to have perceptions of a soul or spiritual kind. It may be said that such
extension of the ordinary use of a word is inadmissible. Yet such extension is
absolutely necessary if one is not to be barred by the current use of a
word from enlarging the knowledge of certain fields. If the word perception is
applied to physical perception only, then one cannot arrive at a concept
that can be of use for attaining knowledge even of this (physical)
perception. Often it is necessary to enlarge a concept in order that it may
preserve in a narrower field the meaning appropriate to it. Or it is
sometimes necessary to add something different to the previous content of a
concept in order that its first content may be justified or even readjusted.
For example, it is said in this book (p. 32) “A representation, therefore,
is an individualized concept.” It has been objected that this is an unusual
use of the word. But this use of the word is necessary if we are to find out
what a representation really is. What would become of the progress of
knowledge if, when compelled to readjust concepts, one is always to be met
with the objection: “This is an unusual use of the word”?